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The 

Wooing' of Boreas 

and otKer Poems 



BY 

L. W. H. 



New York 

BoNNELiv, Sii^vKR & Bowers 

1904 



\ 



LIBRARY of 0OM6RESS 
Two Oottles (tecetved 

JUL 25 1904 
c;^ CoQyrteht Entry 

bLASiS CL xxo. Na 

^ n. b ^ I 

COPY B 






Copyright 1904 
Bonnell^ Silver & Bowers 



First Impression. 






Dedicated to 
My Dear Father and Mother 



CONTENTS. 



The Mirage . . i 

Change 3 

Fanatics 5 

North Pole 7 

A Slight Mistake 9 

A Midnight Reverie 11 

The Sylvan Dance 13 

Invocation 16 

The Toast 18 

The Minstrel's Last Lay 19 

Memory 21 

The Storm Birds 24 

The Wooing of Boreas 26 

Triumph of Arminius 29 

Translation from Quintius Horatius Flaccus 31 

On A Greek Condition 33 

Dear Mamma 35 

Leaving The Bar 38 

Courting , 40 

A Picture 42 

Contra Elegiam 44 



^ 



THE MIKAGE. 

The sinking sunbeams glisten on the sands, 
The desert stretches wide in golden light, 

And far away the distant caravans 

Wind ever on and disappear from sight, 

Where flocks of fleecy clouds are skimming past 
To sink and settle in the west at last. 

But lo ! the heavens seem to burst in flame ; 

Wildly the hordes of Islam hasten on 
Shouting aloud their warlike prophet's name ; 

They sweep along beneath the setting sun ; 
They pass with trampling steeds, and clang of arms. 

And earth re-echoes with their wild alarms. 

And now the red has mellowed into gold, 
Vast cities seem to stretch from sea to sea. 

In pomp and glory and in wealth untold 
A scene of oriental luxury. 

The dome-crowned mosques and palaces arise 
'Mid palms and gardens green against the skies. 



Slowly the gold dissolves, the cities fall, 
The gilded scene now softly fades away ; 

Here stands a column or a shattered wall. 
While all the rest has vanished with the day ; 

At last these very remnants disappear, 

And the lone desert spreads out dark aud drear. 

Thus, oh, Arabia ! was thy sudden rise, 

Thy wealth, thy grandeur and thy swift decline; 

And thou has left few relics for our eyes ; 
Yet one attests thy glory to mankind. 

The great Alhambra stands at this late hour 
The last and noblest relic of thy power. 

L. w. H.— 1899. 



CHANGE. 

I saw a warrior at dawn of day 
Standing with folded arms upon the shore ; 
I turned and watched him as I went my way ; 
This man of strife and war. 

In admiration bound, I stood to gaze 
Upon his massive form and noble mein ; 
Upon the scars that marred his swarthy face 
So noble and serene. 

' ' Oh man of war ! oh tower of strength ! " I mused, 
' ' Thy mighty limbs the storms of life defy. 
Hardened to hardships, and to war well used, 
Could 'st thou decay or die? " 

* * -Jf * * -Sf 



As sunset came, there wandered o'er the sands 
An old man, withered up and bent with years, 
Who leaned upon the cane within his hands. 
Oppressed by childish fears. 

And in this tottering, aged man I saw 

The warrior who in strength and grandeur stood, 

It could not be so many years before. 

Beside this very wood. 

And thus must strength and beauty fade away, 
All that's lovely, all that's grand and high. 
Thus everything must wither and decay. 
Rise, shine, then fade and die. 

I,, w. H.— 1898. 



6 
FANATICS. 

Accursed they stand a lonely band 

From age to age ; 
Long have they borne the brunt of 

Comtempt and rage. 

They saw life through a crooked view ; 

This was the crime 
For which they bled, nor flinched, nor fled 

In every clime. 

They dared to fight for what was right 

As they believed. 
And shut their ears to all the jeers 

Which they received. 



Their bodies wet with blood and sweat, 

They did not swerve, 
And Heaven knows they bore their blows 

With grit and nerve. 

They sowed the seeds of mighty deeds 

Both good and bad, 
And those that saw looked on in awe 

And called them mad. 

Too great a flood of such fierce blood 

Might wreck mankind, 
Yet they inspire the world with fire. 

Zeal unconfined. 



L. w. H. — 1900. 



THE NORTH POLE. 

All dark and cold, mysterious, sublime. 

She sits upon the summit of the earth, 
Where she will be until the end of time 

And has been since its birth. j 

A corselet of smooth ice, unbroken bright 

Covers her breast ; and stretching everywhere 
Reflects and radiates in golden light. 

Her locks of waving hair. 

The dark folds of her purple mantle float, 

Set with a million diamonds, wide and far 
And one bright diamond clasps it on her throat, 

The gleaming polar star. 



8 



And siren-like she entices men to death, 
Brave mariners who fear not sea or sky, 

She breathes upon them with her icy breath 
Until they freeze and die. 

Destruction waits the men who seek to know 
Her secrets, or to look upon her face ; 

Except the dull, unthinking Esquimo, 
Her people and her race. 

I^. w. H.— 1900. 



1! 



A SLIGHT MISTAKE. 

The waves roared loud and the waves dashed high 

And madly leapt to the frowning sky ; 

The ship rolled round in the trough of the sea, 

And the crew were as drunk as a crew could be. 

'* Steer to the north,'' the captain said, 

'' To the polar star, there swinging ahead." 

The pilot looked, but he saw no star, 

Save one gleaming bright in the mist afar; 

So he bore hard-a-port, the pilot he, 

And the rest bore port till they couldn't see; 

And the north star brighter and brighter grew 

Till it seemed that the sun had hove in view. 

*'Now I may be mad, and it may be dreams," 






10 



Said the pilot at last, '^ but shiver my beams 

If I steer by that blooming star any more — 

No, not if the breakers heave us ashore." 

Then the captain swore, and he grasped the wheel, 

And the ship rocked as if she had no keel. 

And the rays of the north star, gleaming bright, 

Were cutting the fog to the left and right. 

Then all at once, from the mist ahead. 

Came the booming of breakers drear and dread, 

And the spray dashed high on the light- house wall. 

Standing cold and grey — and that is all. 

h. w.. H.— 1900. 



11 

A MIDNIGHT EEYEEIE. 

I 

Upon the dark cold sea to-night;- . rv- ,^ 

The silvery moonbeams play ', - ^ ' \ 

They turn the wave crests into light, / 
A path as bright as day. 

To-night while wandering on the shore i 

I chose a sheltered seat, \ 

Amidst the booming breakers' roar, \j 
Where earth and ocean meet. 

A ship half shadowed as a dream 

Glides silent toward the light, i 

Hovers an instant in the gleam 

Then out into the night. 



12 



So frailer ships through storm and cold 

Upon a wider main, 
Have sailed awhile the path of gold, 

Then sought the gloom again. 

L. w. H. — 1900. 



13 4 

» 

THE SYLVAN DANCE. 1 

Dark shadows fall upon the woods, ^ 

The silver moon comes forth, | 

The bright stars rival in their light 
The streamers of the north. 

Upon a grassy forest glade 

The moon serene shines down, 
And casts a mystic golden light 

Upon it and around. 

And lo, the jovial satyrs dance 

Within the golden light, 
And join the graceful forest nymphs, 

Arrayed in robes of white. 

The scene now glows and sparkles bright, 

Soft music swells the air, 
And sweetly, gayly glide around 

The jovial and the fair. 



14 



They whirl around, the joyous throng; 

The nymphs and satyrs sing ; 
And gay and mystic are the rites 

Within the magic ring. 

Now slower, slower grows the dance, 

The light begins to wane, 
The music softly fades, then swells 

And dies away again. 

Oh, softly, softly strike the lute, 
The dance is growing slow. 

And sadly dim the shadows flit 
And slowly fades the glow. 

The sylvan bells have died away. 
The moonlit glade is cleared 

And all the gentle forest nymphs 
Have fled and disappeared. 






15 

How quickly all bright visions come 

And quickly fade away ; 
But leave their charm upon the heart 

Forever and for aye ! 

L. W, H.— 1898. 






16 
INYOCATION. 

Once more the sunrise summons us to toil, 

We leave our rest ; 
Once more we tread the old familiar soil 

With memories blest. 
Victorious triumph, or ruin awaits 

With mein forlorn. 
Yet may we never falter, at the gates, 

But bold press on, 
Lord God of might, be thou our light, 

While yet we live. 



/' 



T 



17 I 

As through the cycle of revolving years ^ 

We've safely passed, \] 

Lord save us from our many doubts and fears 

Until the last. .J 

By Thy almighty power may we temptation brave . 

Then, victory won, 
Oh, grant that we may sink into our graves, 

Our duty done. 
Lord God of might, be Thou our light, 

While yet we live. 

h. W. H.— 1899. 1 



18 

THE TOAST. 

I raised the goblet in the air 
With its weight of solid gold. 
What is the wine that sparkles there 
Is it clear champagne, or Madeira fair? 
Or Burgundy, good and old? 

^ ' A toast, my friend I drink to you ! ' ' 
And I lifted the goblet up. 
But the wine had lost its amber hue — 
'Twas merely a glitt'ring drop of dew. 
And the glass was a buttercup. 

ly. w. H.— 1900. 



( 



19 

THE MINSTKEL'S LAST LAY. 

Striking his harp with wearied palms, ' 

The Bard poured forth his plaintive lay, 
Till quivering with the echoing chords. 
His soul in music seemed to say : — 

"Weary! oh how weary is the never ending strife, 

Cruel ! oh how cruel is the ceaseless toil of life, i 

Empty ! oh how empty is the flask of Hope we'd drain, f 

Hollow ! oh how hollow are the joys, that turn to pain. ? 

* ' Would that in some pleasant land of dreams, 
Blessed with no knowledge of this world of woe, 
Bathed in the depths of Lethe's limpid streams, 
I might forget the sorrows that I know. 



20 

'' By cool melodious waters rippling over golden sands, 

Midst pleasant valleys clothed in living green, 

I might sink down in soothing sleep to rest my wear- 

ried soul, 
And all things fade as though they ne'er had been." 

The music ceased ; the Bard was still, and mute ; 
But on his face a look of rapture grew. 
For ere the harp had ceased its magic song, 
That which he long had sighed for, had come true. 

L. w. H.— 1900. 



21 



MEMORY. 

Ah, memory, come and take me in thy boat. 
Thy gilded shell upon the waves of time ; 
And silently and calmly let us float 
Back to the past sublime. 
The shadowy past of poetry and rhyme ; 
Come memory ! 

And verily thou art a magic queen. 
Ruling a kingdom vast and undefined ; 
And thou canst show me faces I have seen, 
And open eyes now blind, 
And let me live the life that's left behind ; 
Strange memory ! 



22 



For thou hast potent charms that seem to throw 
A glamour o'er the past before my sight, 
That softens, sweetens even grief and woe. 
And makes all pleasures bright, 
Until they glow with soft, delicious light ; 
Sweet memory ! 

Thus drifting ever on from spot to spot, 
Bring up thy fading visions to my eyes. 
And scenes but half remembered, half forgot ; 
Let shadowy figures rise 

That dream-like fade and leave me but their sighs ; 
Yague memory ! 



I' 



23 



Why wilt thou ever whisper as we fly 
That all this is unreal and truth is stern? 
Why wilt thou ever mourn for times gone by, 
Times which cannot return? 
And must I ever long and ever yearn, 
Sad memory? 

Ay, truth is stern, and all must fade away; 
Thy dreams and mystic visions must depart ; 
So waft me back into the light of day. 
I know not whence thou art. 
But this I know, that thou wilt tear my heart, 
Oh memory ! 

L. w. H.— 1900. 



24 

THE STOKM BIKDS. 

When the storm clouds hang o'er the raging sea, 
And the black waves dash up angrily, 
Tossing their white waves to and fro. 
To sink again in the depths below ; 
When the thunder rolls and the winds rush by 
With a dismal moan, then the sea gulls fly 
Like a fleet of ships on the raging ocean 
Kising and falling with ceaseless motion ; 
They tack to right and to left, then sail 
With their white wings fluttering in the gale ; 
For they love the storm and the ocean's roar 
With the ardor of warriors going to war, 



25 



And their screams amid the lightning's flash 
And the howling wind and the thunder crash 
Ring like the piercing war-cry, clear 
'Mid the din of the battle, far and near. 
Thus fly the sea gulls, and oft I think, 
As I watch them over the ocean's brink. 
That these wild vultures of storm and strife 
Are the souls of the vikings gone from life ; 
Homeless and restless, and wild and free, 
They must ever roam o'er the boundless sea. 

Iv. w. H. — 1900. 



26 
THE WOOING OF BOKEAS. 

Rosy -fingered Aurora appears 

High over Aetolia's hills; 
Dewy morning discloses a maiden 

Thinking tearfully over her ills. 

On her beautiful cheek the soft West- wind, 
Sweet Zephyr, brushes from her her tear, 

And as he sweeps over her shoulder 
He speaks words of love in her ear. 

" Cool West- wind, thy breezes console me; 

Waft the sorrow away from my heart. 
Fan my cheeck, O Favanius ! I love thee ; 

From thee I wish never to part." 






27 



But Zephyr's amours to the maiden — 

Broken off by a terrible noise 
And the keen piercing blast of the North- wind, 

And the sound of a moaning, hoarse voice. 

* ' O maiden ! ' ' the voice sounded gruffly, 
*' O maiden ! oh come and be mine." 

T'was wild Boreas who frightened the damsel 
As she sprung from her pleasant recline. 

*' I love thee, maiden, I love thee, 
No harm from me thou 'It receive ; 

Come ! come to my home in the north. 
With pleasures thou canst not perceive. ' ' 



2'8 



But the maiden called, and called loudly. 

On Zeus, the all-father, to save. 
And vainly mild Zephyrus struggled. 

Little help to the maiden he gave, 

Boreas, angered and wrathful 

That his love was returned but with fright. 
Seized on the imploring damsel 

And bore her away out of sight. 

Ever more where Favanius wanders 

He sighs and he sobs as he goes ; 
Ever more from the north come the wailings 

And moanings of griefs and of woes. 

L. w. H.— 1896. 



! 



29 



TKIUMPH OF ARMINIUS. 

Hurrah ! the Roman corpses 

Lie in the forest far. 
Hurrah ! for Yarns mounts no more 

In a triumphal car. 

Hurrah ! the Romans tried to yoke 

Two lions to the plough ; 
The lions broke their puny bounds 

Where are the Romans now? 

Hurrah ! for brave Arminius ! 

Who led us to the fight. 
The Suevians and Cheruskians 

For freedom just and right. 



30 



Hurrah ! the news was brought to Rome 

The Imperator saw 
And heard the fatal message 

That Yarus was no more. 

Then Octavius Augustus 

Against the unmoved wall 
Smote his head thrice and cried aloud 

In anguish through the hall : 
' ' Yarus ! Yarus ! give me 

back my legions Yarus." 

h. W.H.— 1894. 



31 

TRAiSrSLATlON FROM QUINTIUS HORATIUS 

FLACCUS. 
Odes — Book III. 

Septimius to Gades let us roam 
Or yet Cantabria untaught to bear 
Our joke, or yet the savage Syrtes where 

Thunders the Moorish foam. 

May Tibur, revered by Argive pilgrims, be 
The final couch of my declining age, 
The end of weariness, the closing page 

Of travel, war and sea. 

From whence, if an unkindly Fate restrains, 
We'll seek the valley of Galesus rich 
In fleecy flocks and fertile fields o'er which 

Spartan Phalanthus reigns. 



32 



That corner of the earth smiles more serene 
That all the rest to me, whose honey passes 
That of Hymettus, and whose grape outclasses 

That of Yenaf rius green ; 

Whose genial clime to lengthy Spring inclines 
And winters mild ; where Anion rests at peace 
With fruitful Bacchus and his quarrels cease 

With the Falernian vines. 

That spot and all those pleasant meads and meres 
Are calling thee and me; there shall you blend 
The glowing ashes of your poet friend 

With well earned tears. 

ly. W. H. — June, 1902. 



33 

ON A GKEEK CONDITION. 

How hard is the lot of a captive taken in war 
Bound by chains to the rail of the triumph ca.r — 
Choked with dust, dragged on with a jolt and a jar. 
I, too, am bound to a car by the brazen chains 
While Latin and Greek — grim drivers — fling out the 

reins, 
And the car its pitiless, purposeless pace maintains. 

To the left and right the river of knowledge gleams 
Limpid and bright, fed by a thousand streams 
That flow from the hill of thought and the vale of 
dreams. 



34 

The deeds of the past in a turbulent torrent race; 
The river of science flows on at an even pace; 
The golden ripples of fancy and fiction chase. 

' ' Drink ! oh drink ! ' ' cries the soul, ' ' ere the bank 

recedes ' ' . 
^' Drink!" cries the heart, "oh drink!" and the 

body bleeds — 
The skeleton drivers lean over and lash their steeds ; 
Ever on, ever on the classical car proceeds. 

h. W. H. — February 1902. 



35 

DEAE MAMMA— 

'Tis bright and cold and clear to-day, 
The sunbeams glisten on the snow 
Like happy thoughts that dance and play 
Upon the joyful heart and throw 

Greetings to all, but most to thee, 

This day of thy nativity. 

For Winter on the threshold stands 

And seems to linger with a smile ; 

And Spring with Winter joins hands 

And bids him bide a little while. 

Our thoughts like carrier pigeons roam 
Homewards — how bright to-day is home. 

But nature is not always fair ; 

The clouds descend, the showers come, 

The dull monotony of care, 

The daily toils that chill and numb 

The senses and the spirit bind 

To put a polish on the mind. 



36 



To struggle on through cold and gloom, 

To struggle oft without success, 

And if success come — shared with whom? 

How like an endless wilderness ! 
And yet amid the burning sand 
Does Home her genial arms extend. 

When Danger like a brazen bell 
Breaks out upon the chimes of peace 
The pulses beat, the spirits swell 
And scatter comforts, health and ease ; 

Or risking name, instead of life. 

Mix in the great financial strife 

Where mighty minds meet thought with thought, 

And all depends on nerve and brain. 

And every energy is taut ; 

Nature rebels against the strain ; 
Like vessels on the sea, distressed, 
Men homeward turn again for rest. 



37 



Come gain, come loss, come good, come ill, 
One ever follows close the other ; 
But Home, unchanged, awaits me still, 
And you await me still, my Mother ; 

And unto you all blessings be 

This day of thy nativity. 



By h. w. H. 

March 7th, 1902. 



38 
LEAYING THE BAR. 



Transi,ation from Ai^fred, lyORD Tennyson. 

Evening or matinee star — 
And a Scotch highball for me 
And may there be good singing at the bar 
And a game of two or three. 

And when the drink puts most of us to sleep — 
Too full for sound or foam, 
Then out upon the reeling, rolling deep — 
I turn again home. 

Lamplight and midnight bell ; 
And after that the dark — 
I tell the blooming cops to go to hell 
At Central Park. 



39 



And though from out my bourne of time and place 
My boose may bear me far — 
I still must meet my good wife face to face — 
When I have left the bar. 

I.. W. H. 

lyawrenceville, 1900. 



40 
COURTING. 

Not in the moonlight shall we love 
Where treacherous shadows play, 

But rather the glorious sun above 
In the generous light of day 

Where breezes of early morning move 
Tossing thy locks astray. 

Not in the dance ; the sensuous waltz 
Where subtle emotions blow 

Breathing an incense utterly false ; 
But down where the daisies grow 

To gallop together o'er hills and walls 
And thy delicate cheeks aglow. 

Not mid the strains of the sad guitar 

Or tinkling mandolin ; 
But while the organ resounds afar 

To gaze on thy lifted chin 
And drink as the planet from the star 

The warmth of thy soul within. 



41 

Kot with passionate words would I show 

The strength of my love for thee ; 
For speech is feeble and words are slow 

But the wings of the soul are free ; 
And just by a press of the hand — to know, 

And a glance of the eyes — to see. 

ly. w. H.— 1904. 



4:2 

MENTAL. 

A PICTUKE. 

A solemn silence broods o'er the bay 

As we skim along 
And slowly die the sounds of the day 

Save only the breakers moaning away 
Their ceaseless song. 

I can see here stretched with a careless grace 

In the bow at ease, 
All wrapped in thought with an upturned face 

To the evening breeze — 
A profile the dying sunbeams trace 

On the cold grey sky where the bright clouds race 
Like a golden fleece. 



43 



The fitful breezes are blowing her hair 

In a shower of gold, 
So thoughtful, silent, so cold, so fair 

Like a Yalkyre of old. 
She drinks deep draughts of the cool salt air 

The spray flies up but she does not care, 
For only God and the sea are there, 

God and the sea are everywhere. 
Her heart is wrapped in unconscious prayer 

And the thoughts untold. 



44 



" Some village Hampden that with dauntless breast 
The little tyrant of his fields withstood, 

Some mute, inglorious Milton, here may rest. 

Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood." 

GRAY'S KLEGY. 
CONTRA ELEGIAM. 

No genius ever dragged a silent life. 
Inglorious from the cradle to the grave. 

Apart from manly thought and manly strife. 
Unmindful of the glory he should crave. 

No Cromwell, when he heard the stirring din 
That marks the raging conflict far away, 

Would crush the ardor of his heart within 
And live secluded from the worldly fray. 



45 



JSTo Milton, in a quiet rustic town, 

Would dwell secluded as the ages roll, 

And heedless of Ambition's call, would drown 
The noblest inspirations of his soul. 

Oft from the humblest, lowliest ranks of men 
Some of the noblest heroes upward press, 

And reach the summit after toil and pain. 
Where Glory waits to herald their success. 

L. w. H.— 1897. 



I 



■ I* . « » * ^miiti^^mmmimmmm t i ' t ■i " ii i>" < f' i m r i wu m 



JUL 25 1904 



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